


Darcy Can't Sleep

by wickedwriter916



Series: Insomnia at its Finest [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Embarrassment, F/M, Insomnia, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwriter916/pseuds/wickedwriter916
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis resorts to an age-old activity in order to get some shut eye, with some interesting propositions the next morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darcy Can't Sleep

Most nights in the Avenger’s Tower Darcy can fall asleep easily. Regardless if there was a super villain attack on the city or Tony blew up some equipment that he was testing, as soon as Darcy’s head hit the pillow at night she was out cold. But not tonight; at first she was too cold, her toes frozen and unable to get warm. And then she was too hot, and she threw her extra blanket to the floor. Her shirt bunched around her ribs uncomfortably and her shorts rode up her bum. She readjusted and twisted and flopped back onto her stomach. That didn’t feel right, so she rolled to her side. She felt an awkward tingle at the base of her spine, so she rolled to her other side and huffed a sigh of annoyance. She tried lying on her back, moving the pillow flush against her neck, fully cradling her head. It was comfortable but she was still unable to relax into sleep. After what felt more like hours squirming and tangling herself up in her sheets she growled a noise of frustration and lie flat on her stomach, face buried into the pillow, one arm pined straight down her body, hand on her thigh, the other bent with her hand tickling her collarbone. 

A sharp sensation of pleasure shot through her body straight to her core as her fingers danced along the exposed skin at her neck. Moving her head from the feathery depths of her cotton covered pillow, she raised eyebrow and sighed in relief as her body responded to her light touching. Soon her fingers at her thigh inched towards her center, working their way into her shorts and toying with her clit through the barrier of her panties. A quiet sigh and a low moan accompanied this first touch. This felt good for a time, but as her heart rate picked up, she needed more. The pads of her fingers dug harder, and rubbed faster, and soon her breath was coming out in hot puffs, steam heating the side of her pillow. A strangled moan escaped from her throat as she egged on the feeling with her greedy little fingers. Moans, and breath, and whimpers, and sighs, and an “oh good god; fuck!” followed by an entirely too loud squeal, and then Darcy lay panting in a heap on her mattress. Smirking to herself she spun over and nuzzled her cheek into her pillow, her heart still pounding, but as it slowed she drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

As Darcy padded through the hallway to the mess hall the next morning she was greeted by a mussed haired Hawkeye. He looked up from his bowl of cereal briefly before consuming another spoonful.

“Morning,” Darcy greeted uncharacteristically cheery.

Clint’s eyebrow raised as he appraised her moving about the cupboards to procure a package of Pop-Tarts. “Mornin’” he replied in a morning-rough tone. “Sleep alright?” he queried.

Darcy nodded with her back turned as she heated the fruit-filled pastries. “Yeah, took me a while last night, but I finally passed out,” she replied nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” Clint replied, “I usually rub one out if I have trouble sleeping too.”

Darcy froze on her feet and blushed profusely before her popping pastries demanded her rescuing from the toaster. She plated them and turned, intent on not showing her embarrassment. As she sat down at the table she didn’t meet his eyes, but saw him from her peripheral staring purposefully at her. Her poker face must have paid off because he seemed to be studying her as she chewed. Inhaling to emphasize her chest, she turned and gave him a look, wiggling just a little bit to draw his attention. She allowed a small smirk when she saw his eyes dart away from her face to gaze at her breasts for the smallest of seconds.

A throat clearing from the door drew both of their attentions.

“Ms. Lewis, Barton,” Steve Rogers said with a bright flush on his cheeks as he moved easily to the coffee pot.

“Captain,” Clint replied without looking over to him, while Darcy swiveled almost fully in her seat.

“Morning Steve,” she always found that she liked seeing him as a normal person when he wasn’t in costume, because he was seriously a sexy piece of her every fantasy in his Captain America suit; and admittedly she felt just a little bit bad in objectifying him like that.

“So next time you’re having a little trouble falling asleep, remember that I’m just a room away. And I’ll be willing to lend you a hand,” Clint Barton said giving Darcy a meaningful once over with a wink and boyish smirk before depositing his empty bowl into the sink.

Steve nearly choked on his coffee, and flushed the prettiest color of rouge.

Darcy’s eyes followed his delicious ass out of the door and thought fleetingly that maybe next time she would take him up on that offer; but in all reality she didn’t think that would happen.


End file.
